Oh No, I’m Blinded! Dealing With Monster Teen’s Growing Body

I share this because after telling the story to friends, I realized that maybe other mother do not talk with their sons this way. And plus, in hindsight it is hilarious. But when it was happening I was just frustrated.

So my son is a musician, and plays in the school band. The other night he had a performance, and I found out only the night before that he needed to be dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Of course I have to buy this ish short notice!

So after work the next day, I run to the store, estimating my monster teen’s growing size. Pretty much holding things to me and picking a size slightly bigger. It works well for the shirt. For the pants, well, the last size I’d bought him was 32-32. And as a side note, stupid men’s sizes are stupid. Yes, I know they make more sense than a woman’s because you can have a tall skinny dude that needs a tiny waist and all, but it’s too confuzzling for me. So, I just bought his dress slacks in 32-32. I forgot about the one thing my genetics have cursed him with.

My son has a badonkadonk.

This is not a representation of my son. He has a huge butt, but that does not turn him into a monkey.

It is a ridiculously big behind for a male. He’s in denial. He thinks I’m making it up just how like I had him believing for some time that he was a clone after my first of him had an “unfortunate accident.”

But his butt is huge, and when I rushed home, gave him his new clothes to iron and throw on while I changed, I came back out to a visual dilemma.

From behind, his pants looked rather tight. It was showing off just how curvy those back cheeks were.

Me: You gotta go up a size in pants next time.

Monster Teen: Why? They fit.

Me: You look like you are smuggling cantaloupes back there.

Monster Teen: My butt is NOT big Mom!

And then… He turned around and I’m blinded.

Me: Oh no! You can’t go out like that!

MT: What?!

Me: All I see is crotch!


Me: Your junk is sitting up like a beacon right up front. No one will be able to see anything but that!

You remember in the movie┬áLabyrinth, how we as children were introduced to David Bowie’s package? David Bowie has websites dedicated to his package.

My childhood… if it hadn’t already been sullied, that moment would be now.



I don’t want my son to have websites. *Shudders*

Monster Teen: What am I…

Me: Can you move it? Push it down the leg of your pants or something. Ugh. Just, just get it out of everyone’s face!

MT: grumble grumble grumble

Me: BIGGER PANTS. And boxer briefs.

If it wasn’t for having to leave out the door at that moment, I would have NEVER let my poor teen go out the door like that. I know he already catches the eye of many a young female. Well the other night he was serving them free teen on a platter with that get-up. Much to my “ew that’s my son” disgust.

How would a man handle this same situation with his son I wonder?


When Doors, Walls, and Coffee Tables Attack – Part 1

I have a gold medal in Accident Proneness. Seriously, in my life, I have managed to find increasing interesting ways to either hurt myself or just embarrass myself. It’s to the point that people who walk along with me to try keep obstacles out-of-the-way.

I’ve had stitches because of a glass door. Yes. Let’s go back about 3 years… *flashback music begins*

It was night overseas in an Asian country, but not too dark outside. Monster Teen (patent pending) was outside playing in the military housing we lived in. We were supposed to go out to dinner and a movie with my friend who we will call Sailor moon, but MT was late. Completely frustrated I took the elevator from the 8th floor and rushed to the front doors of the apartment building. Now note: the apartment building has 2 sets of glass double doors. A lot of times people leave these open. The only piece of the doors that aren’t glass are the handles, but those are pretty hard to see. Especially when you are speed walking to the doors with only your irritation with your son on your mind.

I swore the doors were open.

They weren’t.

Bam! I hit the door at full speed and immediately felt dripping when my hand flew up to my face. Blood, blood, lots of blood. The boxing match with the door was a complete KO. I left a face print on the door.

A frackin… face print.

I checked my teeth with my bloody tongue to make sure they were all there, and got back on the elevator dripping blood. I get upstairs and lift my lip a bit to see the it looks like I violently assaulted my upper lip with my teeth. And just so you know, I already have big lips. I’m talking Jolie lips, naturally plump. But I could already see it start to swell. By now MT is home while I’m putting ice on my assaulted lips. Of course I blame him. I mean it’s not my fault I behave like a cat and tried to phase through a solid object.

Sailor Moon calls and says she’s outside so we walk to meet her for Korean BBQ. For those that have never tried Korean BBQ, shame on you. It is a lifetime of spicy happiness in your mouth. Key word: spicy. So we eat as I hold the travel pack of ice on my lip when I’m not stuffing it full of rice, meat, kimchi, and beer. After get pretty full I feel something extra weird going on with my mouth.I tongue the inside of my upper lip and it feels… spongy.

Me: “Sailor Moon, is this the inside of my lip hanging out?”

Sailor Moon: “Oh God! Yes… It is. I think you may need to go to the Emergency Room. You want me to take you?”

Me: “Ugh! Well, I guess so before all my lip leaks out.”

2 stitches. 2 stitches and me having to tell my story to basically the whole ER because they were sure I had a domestic fight. And then just laughing at me when Sailor Moon corroborated my story that I ran into a glass door. And on top of 2 stitches, suspected abuse, and laughter from the ER, I end up having to wear a max over my face for about a week because I look like something on a Syfy channel commercial. Elephant Man’s Baby Sister. My lip by now is big enough to cut off air to my right nostril.

My supervisor grants me a week off the next day if I’ll show him my face without my SARS mask (that’s what I call them, but I’m sure you know what I mean. The medical masks that cover your nose and mouth). His reaction is first like shock, but then he laughs uproariously and gives me a week off.

What I learned from the whole experience? That doors are sentient. They along with birds, midgets, and clowns are plotting to take over the world. And because I, Dimensionthe5th, will one day complete my ninja robot monkey army, they must take me out.

I vow not to let them complete their heinous plot.